I like me, as me.

Lately, I’ve been telling myself I need a muse. That I lack creative inspiration. That this rut I’m in will all change when the time is right. But what I really need to tell myself is far different from that.

I need to convince myself that being me, unoriginal, uncreative, silent, calm is okay. That taking time to focus on the little things that comprise my life is acceptable. And maybe, just maybe, that I’m perfectly fine just being me.

I don’t need to have thousands of Twitter followers, hundreds of blog hits, or the most original website design on the World Wide Web yet to date.

I can be me, little ole Angela, wrapped up in a blanket on my balcony, cuddling with my sick puppy dog, drinking a hot chocolate in the middle of August, and still be likable.

I need to slow down and stop looking for me and realize that I am here, right now, and I should accept me in all my glory. No one else will do that for me.

Sure, does it feel good when someone I’ve never met before recognizes me from my Twitter handle, or from the work I’ve done? Yea. It does. It feels really cool to be known. recognized. seen. But there’s way more to life, at least for me, than by spreading myself thin trying to run in as many social circles as possible.

I’m lovable and awesome just being me.

And I say this now with full confidence, ask me again tomorrow and I bet I’ll be back to picking out my flaws with a magnifying glass. Til then…

Dear Self:

I love you.

Advertisement